


through paths where wolves would fear to prey

by Hirikka



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Families of Choice, Found Family, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Pack Bonding, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Witchers (The Witcher), Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hirikka/pseuds/Hirikka
Summary: When Geralt drives Jaskier away, he ruins more than just their friendship—he also destroys the pack bond that neither had been fully aware of. While Geralt deals with that loss and tries to find his child surprise, Jaskier accidentally turns himself into the leader of his own little pack.-Witchers are turned into werewolves as part of their trials—they are able to survive without a pack but that doesn't mean they can't have one.
Relationships: Aiden & Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Witchers, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 23
Kudos: 180





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Geralt Jaskier Big Bang!  
> Shout-out to my artist [Maxx/Dionysuslover](https://dionysuslover.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This is not an a/b/o fic—I'm still using alpha as the term to describe the leader of a pack because it's the most convenient term but the werewolf lore in this is inspired by the Green Creek series by T.J. Klune—it's my personal favorite take on werewolves—it doesn't have the toxic masculinity/super intense power structures that are in a lot of werewolf related media, it is a lot more like real wolves where the pack dynamics are looser and alphas just have like, big dad energy.

**Prologue**

**Wyrt Moon / Waning Crescent**

Jaskier feels like something is _breaking_ as he makes his way down the mountain alone. He feels like he is shaking apart, losing something he didn’t even know he had.

It takes him two weeks to figure out what it is. Two weeks of constantly looking over his shoulder, of feeling unsafe even in securely locked rooms, of an aching emptiness. It’s the breaking of a bond that Jaskier didn’t know existed—and he’s not sure if Geralt knew either. The breaking of the pack bond.

Jaskier is certain of it; even as a human, he can tell.

It makes him even angrier at Geralt. Jaskier never managed to learn much about werewolves from the witcher, but he had done research on his own. He doesn’t know how much difference the mutations make, but he knows that pack is _important_ to werewolves _._

He’s hurt and angry and, despite everything, desperately worried about Geralt. He just doesn’t know what to do about it. He could try to track Geralt down, but he honestly doesn’t know how he would be received. If Geralt would be willing to apologise—to be better. And no matter how much the lack of that bond aches, Jaskier cannot put himself through this pain again. Can’t give his heart and his trust to someone who will use his weak points against him.

In the end, Jaskier decides to just do his best to move on. He’s not a wolf, so perhaps the pain of the broken bond will fade, even if the heartbreak doesn’t.

He heads south towards Oxenfurt, hoping the familiar city will bring comfort. The coast isn’t as appealing now; the idea of going alone stings. He takes his time traveling, playing for his keep in the taverns and inns he stops at. Careful to turn in the opposite direction from any towns rumored to have monster problems.

**

Geralt sits at the top of the mountain for several hours after everyone else has departed. He feels so much, and he cannot separate the pain and anger, frustration and sorrow. He should shift; emotions are simpler as a wolf, and traveling down the mountain would be easier. He might even catch up to Jaskier.

He shifts, and the sorrow hits him hard enough that he staggers for a moment. He feels bereft. He lost something he hadn’t even realized he had. How had he missed the fact that Jaskier was part of his pack? As a wolf, the djinn’s bond that ties him to Yennefer is weaker, so he is all too aware of the _lack_ of any pack bonds. The broken bond aches, and he cannot believe he was so stupid as to fail to notice it. Stupid enough to allow it to _break._ He howls mournfully, and no voices arise to join his own. He is truly alone, in a way he hasn’t been for the past two decades of traveling with Jaskier.

Geralt climbs to his feet. His only thought is to find Jaskier. Perhaps he can still fix this. As a human, he would worry more about what to say, about what this bond means; now, his only thoughts are _pack_ and _home_ , and he feels a driving need to fix this.

A storm hits on his way down the mountain, washing away the traces of Jaskier’s path. Geralt realizes with a sinking feeling that he might not be able to find him. He curses himself for not noticing the bond that had formed between them; it hadn’t been pure chance or luck that they always managed to reunite. Season after season, they had been drawn together by the pack bond, allowing them to find one another despite the vast continent that often separated them.

Without that bond, Geralt is lost. He could go to the closest town, hope that Jaskier had found his way there and that he wouldn’t be too late to catch up to the bard, but there was no guarantee. Geralt could have _already_ missed a turn that would put Jaskier on a completely different route from him.

He shakes himself, trying not to let the fear get to him. There is no point in dwelling on the worst case scenarios. He needs to go. He hopes that he will be lucky. Hopes that for once, Destiny will be on his side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 1: Spring, 1263**

**Pink Moon / Waxing Gibbous**

Jaskier curses Destiny, or whatever power it is that clearly hates him. He had wanted nothing to do with witchers and yet, here he is: Only a week out from Oxenfurt, and there is a badly injured witcher on the ground in front of him. He has a gash on his leg that had clearly come from something other than the townsfolk Jaskier had seen attacking him. They had been brave enough to attack an injured man, but not brave enough to stay when Jaskier had found them and immediately started shouting and brandishing his dagger. It was lucky, both because he doubts he could have actually beaten all of them, and because it meant they had dropped the witcher’s packs when they ran off.

Jaskier sighs, rummaging through the bag until he finds a small medical kit—and more importantly, a bottle of Swallow. He manages to get the potion into the witcher and starts a fire, before tending to the wound in his leg. Once he’s done, he checks over the other injuries. None are serious enough to require stitches, so after Jaskier cleans them, he moves to the other side of the fire and leans back against a tree, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving him drained.

It takes close to an hour for the witcher to wake, and when he does, he immediately tries to spring to his feet.

“Don’t move,” Jaskier orders, hoping the witcher listens or at least doesn’t immediately go for his sword. Surprisingly, the man hesitates, watching Jaskier warily but not moving.

“Can I?” Jaskier reaches a hand towards the man, who hesitates for another moment and then nods. He helps the witcher into a sitting position. The man remains quiet, but he doesn’t protest. As Jaskier moves to step away, the man tilts his head back for a moment, exposing his neck, before seeming to realize what he’s doing and shifting away.

“What happened?” the witcher asks.

“I was passing by, saw some assholes attacking you, so I chased them off.” Jaskier shrugs, slightly uncomfortable under the intense gaze. “You seemed to be in pretty bad shape, so I wanted to help.” He waves at the bandage on the man’s leg, the empty bottle of Swallow.

The witcher’s eyes narrow appraisingly as he notices the bottle as well. “How did you—?”

“Know which potion?” Jaskier offers. At the witcher’s nod, he sighs, sitting down facing the man. “I spent… some time traveling with another witcher. Picked up a few things. I’m Jaskier, by the way.”

“Aiden. You’re the bard. The one who wrote _Toss a Coin_?”

“At your service.” Jaskier tries to keep his voice even, but he’s not sure if he actually succeeds.

“My thanks; you’ve made the Path… somewhat easier with that song. And thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaskier says, trying not to dwell on how strange it is to hear a witcher thank him.

**

Geralt leaves Kaer Morhen as soon as the pass is clear. He hadn’t seen Jaskier or Yen in the final few months before he retreated to the keep, despite his attempts to find them. He spent the winter licking his wounds and trying to recenter himself. He still isn’t sure what to do about Yennefer: the false bond between them is still there, and he can understand Yennefer’s distrust of their relationship in light of it.

His priority is to find Jaskier. He needs to apologize. Even if Jaskier will not forgive him, he needs to _try_. Jaskier is the only person who has ever _chosen_ him, without any kind of outside influence, and he does not want to lose that. He can feel the broken pack bond between them like an aching wound that won’t heal. He turns south when he reaches the bottom of the pass and sets back out on the Path.

**Pink Moon / Full**

Jaskier and Aiden part ways when they reach the next town, and Jaskier honestly doesn’t expect to see him again. He spent twenty years traveling with Geralt and never met a single other witcher; he wouldn’t expect that to change now.

A few days later, however, Jaskier feels a sudden burning need to be outside. He knows it is foolish to go out on his own at night, especially on the full moon; if Geralt were here, he would be in for an actual lecture. But, well, Geralt isn’t—and that’s rather the point.

Once Jaskier is on the outskirts of the town amongst the trees, he pauses, listening to the quiet sounds of the woods at night.

A shadow splits from the dark of the woods—a huge silver-grey wolf steps towards him. Jaskier expects to feel fear, but he doesn’t. He recognizes those green eyes.

“Aiden?” Jaskier asks, keeping his voice quiet.

The wolf tilts its head with a low whine before stepping forward and pressing a cold nose to Jaskier’s hand.

“Hey there,” Jaskier says, giving him a cautious pat. When Aiden leans into the touch, Jaskier becomes more confident, ruffling the soft fur around the witcher’s ears.

Aiden presses his nose to Jaskier’s chest, and Jaskier _hears_ him:

 _ **Alpha?** _tentative and unsure.

Jaskier’s hand stills. He is not sure how to respond. Not sure what exactly the wolf is asking.

_**Alpha? Play?** _

That, at least, Jaskier can understand. He grins and nods.

Aiden makes a pleased sounding rumble before dropping into a playful bow and letting out a quiet yip. Jaskier grins at the wolf as he takes off, running into the woods and throwing a look back over his shoulder to see if Jaskier is following.

Jaskier does; he races through the woods after Aiden, bounding and playing. He tires first, collapsing back against a tree in a small clearing and watching as Aiden circles around the perimeter.

_**Safe here. Wait.** _

“Okay,” Jaskier agrees. He’s tired and doesn’t have the energy to really think about why he can hear Aiden like this. Deciding that _that_ is a problem for morning Jaskier, he lets his eyes drift closed.

Jaskier is warm when he wakes up, which seems odd because he distinctly remembers falling asleep in the middle of the woods. He opens his eyes to see a large wolf sleeping half on top of him. He gives Aiden a shove, and he moves with a grumble of protest.

“Morning,” Jaskier says around a yawn. “Wanna change back and tell me what all that was about last night?”

Aiden looks up at him. _**Are you mad?**_

Jaskier blinks; he’s never seen a witcher use puppy eyes before. It’s frankly unfair. “Is there some reason I should be mad?”

Aiden heaves a sigh and shifts back, rapidly putting on his clothes. He had clearly gone to collect his pack while Jaskier was asleep.

Jaskier sits quietly until Aiden is ready. Or he tries to, at least, but he’s too curious to wait for long. “So?”

Aiden flops to the ground near Jaskier, looking as though he wants to move closer but resists the urge.

“I’m sorry; I can try to stop it,” Aiden says, sounding absolutely miserable.

Jaskier tilts his head. “Okay, I feel like I’m missing something here.”

“How much do you know about werewolves?”

“Some. Not much. My… previous companion wasn’t the most forthcoming. I know the basics about packs—the things you can find in books about werewolves—but not much beyond that.”

“Okay. You know that witchers don’t normally form packs? I think maybe we used to, back when there were more of us and we could travel closer together. But now. It just wouldn’t work. The mutagens mean that we can live without bonds or a _tether_ and not lose ourselves the way other werewolves without a pack would.”

“Right,” Jaskier agrees.

“Well. My, uh, more wolf-y self, sort of. Decided you were pack?”

“Oh.” Jaskier knows there is more to it: The wolf had called him _alpha._

“That doesn’t normally happen with humans. I mean, it _can_ , but it usually takes longer? You don’t have the same tendency towards forming those bonds that werewolves do.”

Aiden falls silent, and Jaskier finally decides to just get to point: “You called me alpha.”

Aiden sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. That’s uh. Where it gets weird. I don’t know _how,_ since you’re human. It shouldn’t be possible. But you apparently _are_ an alpha.”

“Okay. That's completely crazy. But I guess, what else is new?” Jaskier pauses, trying to process this discovery. “What exactly does it mean, to be an alpha?”

“The alpha leads the pack. The position is about protection and support. Making sure the people in your pack are safe and cared for. All the members of a pack are linked, which lets them communicate during the shift and send simple messages over pretty great distances. Alphas have some influence over emotions through these bonds; they can calm their wolves or get them geared up for a fight. From what I’ve heard at least. Like I said, witchers don’t _have_ packs.”

The alpha traits, at least, make sense to Jaskier. He can see how that might have been a role he would have filled, if he had _actually_ been a gods’ damned werewolf and not just a bard.

“Witchers don’t form packs, but you did? With me?”

Aiden immediately draws in on himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. Please don’t be mad, I’ll try to fix it.”

“Woah, woah, hey.” Jaskier reaches out to place a hand on Aiden’s shoulder, and the witcher practically falls into him. “It’s okay.”

Aiden snuffles at his shoulder but doesn’t seem to be in any state to speak, so Jaskier continues: “I don’t know how to be an alpha, especially since I’m not even a werewolf. But it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He continues to talk softly, trying to sooth the witcher as best he can.

After a few minutes, Aiden draws back, looking chagrined. “Sorry, I’m. Well. I didn’t realize how it would feel. It’s—” he cuts himself off. “It’s a new bond. I should be able to stop it.”

“Do you want to stop it?” Jaskier asks.

Aiden stares at him as if he has suddenly grown a second head. “Do _I_? You can’t possibly want to be in a pack with a _witcher._ You said you spent time traveling with one, but that’s not the same thing.” The tone he uses on “witcher” is one that Jaskier is all-too familiar with: the bitterness and hatred that comes from years of people treating you like trash.

Jaskier forces himself to relax, tamping down on the anger he always feels when faced with all the ways that witchers have been made to suffer. He does his best to project nothing but calm confidence as he says, “As long as you’re willing to watch me fumble a bit, I can be an alpha.” He cautiously wraps an arm around Aiden, hoping he’ll be alright with the additional contact. “I still don’t really know what I should be doing. But if you’ve never been in a pack, you won’t know if I’m getting it wrong, so I suppose we can figure it out together?”

“Oh. You’re insane,” Aiden says, as if he’s just solved a great mystery.

“Almost certainly,” Jaskier agrees with a grin. “Now come on. I need to get my things from the inn, and you need to prepare to answer a lot of questions.”

**

Geralt dreams of the first time Jaskier saw him in his wolf form.

_He tries to drive the bard away, and when that fails—repeatedly—he at least manages to find a town with an inn for the night of the full moon. He books a room and convinces the bard to stay and play. He’s not sure what he would have done if it hadn’t worked, but that doesn’t matter now. He gets half a mile outside of the town before he stops, breathing in the cool night air and giving in to the pull of the moon._

_His senses sharpen further in this form, and he realizes that he is not as alone as he had intended. He is instantly on alert. He can tell there is a human nearby, but the mix of scents in the woods makes it difficult to focus on the other person. They are not close enough to have seen him, but they’re still a potential danger._

_He circles back on silent paws, sticking to the shadows where he can; he knows his fur stands out starkly in the light of the full moon, and he doesn’t want to be spotted. Now that he’s closer, the human’s scent is easier to pick out. And familiar. He is on edge, torn between the knowledge that he should leave and a desire to get closer, when he spots Jaskier. The bard is scanning the woods around him as he walks and does not look nearly as afraid as he should be._

Run-Hide-Danger _wars with_ Safe-Friend-Pack _and as a wolf, he can’t parse which set of instincts are correct._

_“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice is soft, and he is looking right at the wolf. His eyes are wide, but he isn’t running. Isn’t screaming. His scent hasn’t changed, still completely absent of fear._

_“That is you, isn’t it?” Jaskier takes a step towards Geralt._

_Geralt is frozen; he knows he should run. He is strong in this form, but humans still mean danger. Somehow, instead, he finds himself moving closer._

_Jaskier reaches out a hand towards him and then stands perfectly still. “Geralt, I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to come. I just wanted to see if it was true.”_

_Geralt snorts at that; of course the bard would risk his life in the woods at night to see if the rumors were true. Foolish brave creature. Almost without thinking, he moves closer and presses his nose against Jaskier’s hand. Wanting to assure him that he is safe._

_Jaskier grins at him, and Geralt feels something spark through him._ Pack _, his instincts tell him, but he pushes the thought aside. He can deal with that later. For now, he isn’t alone, and that is enough._

When he wakes up alone, bond still broken, he wants to scream, to rage. It fuels his determination to find Jaskier; if he can do that, perhaps he can fix this before it is too late.

**

Geralt does not find Jaskier. He doesn’t even catch a whiff of his scent. The closest he gets in _months_ is occasionally hearing other bards singing _Her Sweet Kiss._ Every time, it feels like he’s being stabbed. He usually ends up leaving town and traveling for several days as a wolf. Focusing only on the path onwards. He’s lucky that Roach is so tolerant of his wolf form because ever since leaving Kaer Morhen, he has spent more time as a wolf than a man.

**Flower Moon / Waning Gibbous**

“Damn, Buttercup, that wolf is stupider than I thought.”

“What?” Jaskier shifts to face Aiden, closing his notebook.

“I actually got paid in full,” Aiden says as he drops his coin purse on the table and settles down to lean against the bed. “And the alderman _thanked_ me.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Not sure what that has to do with Geralt.” It still smarts a bit, to speak about Geralt, but the pain is easing.

“They called me Lion Heart,” Aiden says. “It’s your songs, changing things again. Thank you.”

“Oh.” Jaskier ducks his head; he’s not used to the idea of being thanked for his songs about witchers. He always suspected that Geralt appreciated the results, if not the songs themselves, but he’d never said as much.

“Seriously,” Aiden says. “He was an idiot and a cad to give you up.”

“Yes, well.” Jaskier grins. “His loss is your gain, I suppose.”

“Sure is,” Aiden agrees. He stretches and nudges Jaskier’s foot with his own. “If we run into _my_ wolf this year, I’ll make sure he lets Geralt know exactly what a fool he is.”

Jaskier stares at him. “Now, hold on. Your wolf?”

“I didn’t mention him?” Aiden says, although from his expression, he is well aware that he hadn’t.

“No!” Jaskier says.

“It’s been a few years since I saw him, and it’s a bit of a mess,” Aiden admits. “Wolves and Cats don’t exactly get along. Did you know we’re the only school forbidden from visiting their keep?”

Jaskier tilts his head. “That you did mention. Didn’t tell me why, though. But that can wait. I want to hear about _your_ wolf.”

“His name’s Lambert,” Aiden says. “Don’t know how much your wolf mentioned his brothers, but Lambert’s a right asshole. Prickly as anything, short temper.” He sounds incredibly fond, even as he insults the wolf.

Jaskier thinks back to the very few times he had gotten Geralt to open enough to mention his fellow witchers—“He’s the youngest, right?”

“Yeah,” Aiden agrees.

“I’d like to meet him,” Jaskier says.

Aiden smiles at that. “I think you’d get along well. You’re both stubborn bastards.”

“Thank you. You’re too sweet.”

**Strawberry Moon / New**

Geralt forces himself into a town for the first time in weeks; he can’t abandon the Path completely, needs _something_ to remind him of who he should be, remind him that he still has a purpose. He accepts a contract for some drowners before heading to the tavern to get a drink and some food he didn’t have to catch himself. He’ll take care of the drowners in the morning and then move on.

He takes a seat in a back corner and lets the murmur of the other patrons wash over him. They aren’t actively hostile, which he’s thankful for. He hadn’t quite realized how much he was missing human contact; without Jaskier, it is so rare to find pleasant company in little towns like this that he rarely thinks to seek it out for himself. A woman crosses the room and takes a seat across from Geralt. She smells faintly of magic, and there’s a knowing look in her eyes that makes him uneasy.

“What are you doing here, White Wolf?”

Geralt doesn’t want to get involved in whatever this is, but she clearly won’t leave without a response, so he says, “Drinking.”The woman doesn’t seem amused. “There is a crossroads ahead of you, wolf. Diverging paths.” She leans forward, something intense in her gaze. “You’re slipping.”

“What are you talking about?” Geralt growls.

“A wolf without a pack cannot survive,” she says. “Can’t you feel it pulling at you?”

“Feel what?” Geralt asks. He half expects her to say Destiny; it seems to be all people want to talk to him about.

“The emptiness,” she says, instead. “You’ve lost your pack. How much longer will you be able to survive alone?”

“Witchers don’t need packs,” Geralt says.

“And yet, you had one, didn’t you?” She spreads her hands. “Which path will you take, White Wolf? Are you running from something, or to something?”

Geralt growls again. “Enough of this. Speak clearly or leave me in peace.”

The woman sighs. “Here is something clear: Nilfgaard is marching for Cintra.” Geralt hisses out a curse, and the woman smiles. “Time for you to stop running away.”

She stands and makes her way out of the tavern. Geralt watches her go and makes a decision: Tomorrow he will deal with the contract, and then he will ride for Cintra.

He’ll stop running from his destiny, and perhaps that will put him on a path to right the wrongs he has committed.

**Strawberry Moon / Third Quarter**

“Why is it that you keep control of your mind when you transform? Is that a witcher thing?”

Aiden tilts his head. “Didn’t Geralt ever tell you about it?”

Jaskier snorts. “Geralt hardly told me anything. I don’t think he liked talking about it.”

“Werewolves need a tether, something that keeps us connected to who we _are_. To our humanity,” Aiden explains. “It’s easier for witchers, I think. Whatever they did to make us not need packs also makes it easier to stay in control. Contracts for werewolves are usually for those who never learned how to control themselves, or those who’ve lost their tether.”

“That makes sense. Geralt usually tried to see if they could be cured first…”

Aiden grins. “A lot of times the ‘cure’ is just helping them realize they need a tether. Definitely easier than fighting.”

“What _is_ a tether?”

“It varies: It can be an idea or a concept. I know some who use a person as a tether, although that can be dangerous; it’s a lot to pin on a single person.”

“What’s yours?” Jaskier asks. “Unless it’s something you don’t talk about?”

Aiden flops back on the grass, gazing up at the trees above them. “It is a little personal, but you’re pack; I don’t mind telling you. Witchers are meant to use the Path as their tether. Y’know, the whole idea of what a witcher _should_ be.”

“That… explains a lot,” Jaskier says.

“Mhm,” Aiden agrees. “That’s why some witchers get very touchy if others stray from the ideals of what a witcher should be—part of the reason Cats aren't super popular. Got too _involved_.”

Jaskier can guess what that means; he’s heard the rumors about Cat witchers taking on contracts against humans, working as assassins and mercenaries. He doesn’t press the issue. “Is the Path yours?”

Aiden sighs. “It was, for a long time.”

“And now?”

“Now? It’s this. Our pack.”

“ _Oh_.” Jaskier feels a rush of warmth and affection for his friend. He moves across the fire to lay next to Aiden. He’s not entirely sure what to say; words don’t feel like enough to encompass the knowledge that this bond, new as it is, means so much to Aiden.

“Don’t get all dramatic on me,” Aiden grumbles.

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

Aiden snorts and then shifts form, moving so that he can rest his furry head on Jaskier’s chest.


End file.
